


Alone

by Gimmeran21



Series: Sweetheart [7]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Brain Injury, Break Up, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Flu, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Physical Disability, Self-Esteem Issues, Talking Therapy, Therapy, Unconditional Love, mental disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 20:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmeran21/pseuds/Gimmeran21
Summary: Tony leaves Gibbs.Gibbs lets Tony go.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Series: Sweetheart [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687855
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Give Me A Hug by rose_malmaison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony leaves Gibbs.

He’d woken up to the alarm, groaned because he’d forgotten it was a school day, used the bathroom, dressed, made scrambled eggs and coffee then jumped into the car to drive at double quick speed to the Navy Yard. Despite that he was five minutes late so he’d been telling McGee and Ziva a long involved yarn about the reason for his lateness until –  


“Not interested, DiNozzo, now get on with it. Down to the firing range for requalification.”

As usual his score had only just been below the Boss’s.

Then Despatch had phoned.

“Dead Naval Officer at Rock Creek Park.”

The murderer was rather stupid and had stayed very close to the crime scene so Tony had chased him, brought him down with a flying tackle, wrestled him to the ground and then talked him to death in the Interrogation Room until the man had caved and admitted everything.

“Just shut him up will ya’.”

He was looking forward to the weekend when he was going to a Goth-themed party with Abs. She was coming round the next afternoon with a selection of clothes and to make him up. He only hoped he wouldn’t go deaf with the type of music that was played at those kinds of parties but it was the last chance he’d have to enjoy himself before he started to train for the NCIS triathlon. The training was never enjoyable, but he liked to think that at the end of it he’d be in good shape and then perhaps the Boss would notice him, _really_ notice him.

Then he woke up to reality again.

He’d tried to get up but his leg had cramped so badly that Jethro had spent minutes massaging his leg until he was finally able to get off the bed. He had managed to remember how to make Jethro scrambled eggs and coffee. Then he’d walked (limped) to the park to meet Sadie and the ‘girls’ who didn’t mind when he had to search for a word or even when his words totally failed him.

When he got home he’d put on a film and had then woken to find himself stretched full length on the couch with his head on Jethro’s lap.

“Honey, you fell asleep halfway through. Do you want me to start it from the beginning?”

“No. S’alright.”

He was a burden – always would be. His father had reminded him – he was slow, he was stupid, he was d-damaged. Couldn’t even think without stammering. It had taken him months to relearn how to walk without any help but he still walked slowly and with a limp years after the shooting. It had taken him weeks and weeks to relearn five recipes and he still sometimes had to look at the crib sheets that J-Jane had given him. On bad days he needed to be reminded how to shave and brush his teeth. He’d had a-an anxiety attack the other day, no weeks ago, and he couldn’t even do any more cookery lessons with Jane at the moment, not fit enough. He couldn’t even remember. Who’d want him?

He longed to be able to walk fast and effortlessly, to run, play football, to speak without, without stammering, to concentrate for more than an hour at a time, to remember things without having to be reminded.

In hospital again, Brad again. Why? Gibbs having to spend all his time visiting me. Then home, what was my home but now not. Not mine. Thought Jethro was mine but not anymore. Silly of me to think so. Not worthy of him, was my silver fox, not anymore.

Jethro’s been so good to me, don’t deserve it. Why bother? Tried for years but still can’t walk properly. Spent so long trying, don’t want to anymore. I can’t do it anymore, Jethro shouldn’t. It’s too much for him. He’s so, so patient. He shouldn’t have to be. Needs someone whole.

J-Gibbs spends all that time trying to get me to eat. I d-don’t want to hurt him or Jane but I’m just not hungry. Then he’s tried to get me to walk round the garden but he doesn’t under-understand. I’m tired and my legs start to, start to – don’t know the word anymore. Wobble, yes, wobble.

The patient way he treats me, the patience of a sniper but I’m not work or a child. He shouldn’t have to be patient with me, he wasn’t before the shooting. I see the look in his eyes, he’ll give up on me one day. Why not? I’m a burden, helpless. He expects me to get better, perform like a trained seal. Will he clap if I get it right?

Why would anyone want to visit? Too tired. They have better things to do.

Too tired to see them anyway.

Can’t play the piano, too tired. Hurts to sit like that.

Can’t make Gibbs stop trying to help me. I’m not worth the effort. He needs more from me and I can’t give it to him.

Before, I helped, now I have to be helped. Before, I put the bad guys away but now all I’m fit for is to play piano and cook, barely.

J-Gibbs is spending all his time with me. Why should he? I love him but I’ve tied him down for too long.

Of course Jethro (must call him Gibbs now) would get bored with him and want someone else who was whole. Three wives and the love of his life, Shannon. Why would Gibbs want him? Gibbs having someone else, that explained why Gibbs hadn’t touched him for weeks: he deserved someone else, someone better than him. Even before the shooting Tony knew he had married up by getting together with Gibbs, his (no, not anymore) silver fox. When someone had said after the shooting that he’d married up they’d even had to explain what that meant.

It had started on the day J-(no, Gibbs, he told himself firmly) had said he was going fishing but when Tony had gone into the workshop to shoo Kitty out he’d found the rods leaning against the wall. Another day Gibbs had said he was going to see some of his Marine pals and then one of them had phoned the house to ask where he was.

There were the times when he’d walked in on Gibbs talking to someone on the phone and he’d just hung up. In that last phone conversation Gibbs had called the person at the other end ‘honey’. He only ever called Tony ‘honey’, no one else. But now he had another honey. He couldn’t take any more.

Can’t think, tired, sleep.

The week before, Gibbs had driven up to the house to find it in darkness at only 1700 hours so Alix and Callum must have left. They had been taking it in turns to help him with Tony so where were they? But first he had to check on Tony in case he had been taken ill again. That bout of flu had really taken it out of him. Jethro had thought that this time he was going to lose his sweetheart.

Jethro was convinced that Tony had started getting sick as a result of his father’s visit. When he had asked Jethro to hug him immediately after that visit Tony had said that he didn’t normally let his father get to him the way he had and about a week later he’d started getting really sick. Looking at Tony’s pale face, gaunt now because of all the weight he’d lost, Gibbs inwardly cursed Senior. 

“The flu doesn’t work like that you know.”

“Just let me stick to my opinion, Brad. Tony’s father is a real piece of work. You heard when Tony was delirious, what he was saying to his father. He was reliving when his father left him in for two days in the Maui Hilton because he’d forgotten about him.”

Brad was not easily disconcerted given the job he was in, but that had shocked him especially because Tony had never given any indication of his neglectful childhood.

Sure, the flu had been weeks ago with Tony being discharged from hospital as convalescent a while back but tiring even more easily than usual and very weak still. Brad had warned them that it would take a considerable time before Tony felt really well. He’d also mentioned that depression was a known side effect of flu and to take note of any signs of it.

“Gibbs, you need a break, Callum and I are here to help. That’s one of the reasons you employ us, right? Why don’t you go and do something enjoyable and we’ll see that Tony’s OK. You know you can trust us.”

So he’d taken a rare afternoon off which he realised he really needed. The worry about Tony, not to mention the lack of sleep was taking it out of him. He hadn’t done much that afternoon, just gone to a local diner, had several coffees and then semi-dozed on a park bench in the winter sunshine.

Jethro slipped quietly into the bedroom to find Tony asleep, tangled up in the bedclothes and restlessly moving around, murmuring unintelligibly. Bending down to kiss his forehead he checked whether it was warm. No, it seemed normal and Tony wasn’t flushed, rather the opposite, still pale because he hadn’t got his colour back yet. Gibbs left him to sleep but looked in on him every so often.

“Hi, Gibbs here. Has Tony been alright? I got here to find the house in darkness.”

“Yes, Tony said he was going to have a very early night and as he’s been so tired recently we thought we’d leave him to it. “

“Fine, but you know how it is.”

“Of course, we totally understand. He’s worth worrying about. We’ve fed Kitty by the way and put her in the den.”

To his shame, Gibbs had completely forgotten the wretched animal although come to think of it he could hear scratching and howling coming from the den. He’d tuned her out in his worry about Tony.

He didn’t want to go too far away from the bedroom so sat on the couch and switched on the TV and the next thing he’d woken up with a stiff neck and the Late Night News. Then he went to join Tony. When they went to bed Tony normally plastered himself all over Gibbs but this time Tony jerked away from him and rolled over to the other side of the bed, muttering something like ‘wrong’.

The next week Tony had chosen his time carefully. Gibbs was out for a couple of hours and Alix and Callum had just left after looking in on him to check he was alright. They’d bought his story that he was fine and that he’d watch a film so not to worry, they could go because Jethro would be back soon.

He’d taken one final walk round the house where he and Gibbs had been happy or so he thought but it had been a dream. He’d been lied to. He’d believed Gibbs when they had promised each other never to keep secrets from each other. He knew that Gibbs hated Kitty but was keeping that a secret from him. So what was another secret? 

Got to be strong, book a room, then a cab. Say goodbye to Kitty. Write note. 

As he was writing the note it was as though he was writing his own death warrant. How was he going to live without Gibbs? Got to be strong, give Gibbs a chance to be happy. He’d been good to him, putting up with him for so long.

Gibbs had finally made him feel as though he was worth something, as though he mattered, that he was worth caring for. To him, the name Jethro had meant love, acceptance, home. Gibbs had made him feel valued and he knew Gibbs had defended him from jerks who called him retard and cripple including his father but wasn’t that the truth about him? Who would want to be tethered to someone like him?

Home wasn’t home anymore. Had it all been a lie? Or when had that become a lie? After they’d moved into the new house? How soon after? Had Gibbs been meeting someone else all that time? How long had Gibbs been cheating on him? No wonder they hadn’t made love for weeks. After all Jethro had had had three divorces and a long dating history. Who wouldn’t want him, his silver fox?

So Tony had put a few things in his backpack, nothing Gibbs had given him, phoned a local hotel to book a room for the night, booked a cab and said goodbye to Kitty, giving her a final belly rub and kiss.

“I’ll get someone to fetch you when I’m fixed up, sweetheart.”

He wrote the note in his best but still shaky handwriting. (Can’t even write properly now).

“Gibbs

You deserve someone better than me and I’m glad you’ve found someone. I wish you’d told me earlier and then I would have gone sooner. Once I’ve found somewhere to live someone will collect Kitty.

All my love and thanks for the time we had together.

Tony”

He left his house keys with the note.

Gibbs came into the house after a good visit with some friends. The arrangements were going extremely well and he could soon tell Tony about them. It had been a long time in the planning.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Silence.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Silence.

Alarmed now, in case Tony had been taken ill again - Jethro went to the gym in case Tony had tried to exercise alone. Since the flu, they’d agreed he wouldn’t use it by himself until he was completely recovered. Tony wasn’t anywhere in the grounds either.

Then he went through the house and still no Tony so he phoned him but it went straight to voicemail and then he’d phoned Alix who said that Tony hadn’t mentioned going out. Now really worried, he saw the note propped up on the mantelpiece. Relieved that there would be a simple explanation for Tony’s absence, he opened it. And his world fell apart.

Tony, leave him? His legs started to go from under him so he hastily backed up and sat on the couch. Why? Who was the someone he was talking about? Since they’d got together, he’d never thought about another man or woman in that way. Sure, like Tony, he’d had opportunities but had always either ignored them or turned them down. Tony was everything to him, the stubborn, brave, kind, charming so-and-so.

Think, think. Where would he go? If he were that upset he wouldn’t try any of the team or the neighbours and would probably need a cab. Tony used a local cab firm to get to Bethesda when he visited the patients so he tried them and sure enough they’d picked up Tony and they gave him the address of the hotel he’d gone to.

Jethro jumped into the car and drove even more recklessly than he used to in NCIS days.

“Hi, I’m looking for someone who booked into here several hours ago. Could you tell me the room number?”

“Sorry, no can do, it’s private.”

Resisting the temptation to take the man by the throat, he calmed himself down. Putting on an embarrassed air he said,

“I understand, but my husband and I had a quarrel… You know how it is. I want to make it up with him.”

“We had a guy who did look rather upset when he came in. He didn’t look too well either. I offered to get a doctor but he said he was fine.”

Jethro smiled grimly. As always, whenever Tony was feeling anything but fine he would say he was.

“So, could you do me a favour and tell me the room number? His name is Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs.”

“That’s the guy. It’s room number 118. I’ll get a spare key for you. Hope you make it up with him OK.”

Jethro made it to room 118 and then paused. What was he going to say to Tony? Bracing himself, he let himself in, prepared for any eventuality. Apart from the one that presented itself. Tony lay fully dressed on top of the bed with the covers wrapped round him, sound asleep.

When Tony had arrived at the hotel, he was checking in when the world started to spin until he was swaying on his feet.

“Hey. Are you alright? Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“N-no, I’m, I’m fine. I’ll just go to my room.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. Don’t want you passing out.”

“Thanks.”

They’d made it to the room.

“If you need anything, just ring for room service.”

“Right. Thank you.”

He’d barely managed to take off his backpack before he fell on the bed, unconscious.

He’d woken later, frozen and pulling the covers round him hadn’t worked but he managed to get back to sleep, which is where Jethro had found him.

Trying to put Tony’s hands under the covers Gibbs felt how cold they were. Checking through the closet he found a couple of extra blankets and put them over him then sat on a chair to watch over his husband. He fell into an uneasy doze and woke up when he heard Tony stirring.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart anymore. You have someone, someone else. Go away.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know who or what you’re talking about. I’d never cheat on you. You’re everything to me.”

“Not true, you’ve been lying about where you’ve been and calling someone else ‘honey’. I know I’m not much, even worse than when we got married but you could have t-told me, not cheated. You haven’t touched me for weeks, now, now I know why.”

Tony’s breathing was getting more laboured as he struggled not to break down in front of his husband. Had to be strong.

“My love, try to calm down and then I’ll explain.”

“D-don’t need to, I understand. Da-damaged. W-who’d want me, especially someone like you?”

“Tony, listen to me, please listen to me. I’ve been stupid in keeping this from you because I wanted it to be a surprise. Needed to get all my ducks in a row.”

“Wh-at?” (Don’t understand so much now). 

“I needed to finish the plan.”

“What plan?”

“I wanted to take you to Italy in the spring as a surprise and before that I needed to check with Brad that you’d be fit enough to fly in a while and for him to arrange a special physical for you just to be sure. And I called in some favours from friends of mine so we could go by private jet and stay in some upscale hotels.”

Gibbs didn’t mention that he’d had to make sure the hotels were small and quiet enough not to cause Tony problems with noise levels given how sensitive he was to sounds now.

“Honey?”

“That’s the niece of one of the friends and her name is Honey.”

“Oh.”

Gibbs could tell it was all too much for Tony, who was starting to calm down but looked exhausted after all that he’d been through.

“N-not leaving me? Don’t have someone else?”

“Never, my love.”

“You lied. How can I trust you? Wh-why didn’t you tell me? I’m not right, you can do better.”

“How can I do better than you? You’re everything to me, you know. I can see I’m going to have to remind you of that a lot more.”

“But, damaged.”

“Yes, you’re not like you were before and you could have given in but you haven’t. You’ve kept fighting. The Brits call it bloody-mindedness. You could have sat back but you haven’t. Do you know they love you at Bethesda?”

Tony looked incredulous.

“They love you because you’ve shown patients with injuries like yours what can be done. But you don’t just tell them, it’s not just words, you encourage and inspire them and cheer them up when it gets too much. So why don’t you let me do that for you?”

“You have to put up with a lot from me.”

“You mean your laughter, your terrible jokes, your wonderful piano playing and singing. Sweetheart, I love the whole package that makes up you. I’m here to support you through everything. Remember in sickness and health. I said I’d always love you and I meant it. You’re funny, kind, so brave. What’s not to love?”

The doubt in Tony’s face was beginning to fade but Gibbs knew that everything in Tony’s life had conspired to make him feel not worthy of love and the problems he had faced and in many ways was continuing to face after the shooting had only underlined those feelings despite Gibbs’ constant reassurance and that of his friends. His father’s visit hadn’t helped, when he’d threatened to sue Jethro for using undue influence over Tony because of his brain injury.

How could he have missed the signs? Despite his words he so often under-estimated Tony who still retained his investigator’s instincts. He stood by his decision to want to give Tony a surprise but he hadn’t bothered to hide it properly from him. And Tony’s still sometimes well-hidden insecurities had come floating up to the surface right on cue because it was now becoming obvious that he was suffering from depression.

Gibbs had been so bound up in seeing to Tony’s physical needs he’d forgotten about his mental health. How had he managed to miss the signs? Sure, just after Tony had been discharged it had made sense to restrict the number of visitors and for Tony not to be up to playing the piano or even listening to his music because he was so tired a lot of the time. He’d expected Tony’s appetite to be poor and had been very grateful for all the gifts of food made to tempt a convalescent’s appetite. Jane in particular had been wonderful, bringing in a selection of appetising dishes in small portions.

Their love life had been non existent for weeks and as far as Gibbs was concerned that was OK because Tony was an invalid and he wasn’t going to initiate anything, he’d leave it up to Tony when he was feeling well enough.

But Tony hadn’t started eating properly, still picking at his food, however tempting, he hadn’t started playing the piano again or even listening to music, He was saying very little and that should have put up a massive red flag for Gibbs. A silent Tony was either ill or upset. Neither was he paying much attention to Kitty, who increasingly had been going over to see Jasper at Alix’ and Callum’s, he hadn’t wanted visitors (‘too tired Jethro’) and he certainly hadn’t tried to start anything interesting with Jethro. He had hardly smiled or cracked any jokes for weeks.

All signs of someone coming out of a serious illness but after the month he’d been home, also signs of a depression. That Tony had so carefully and cleverly hidden from him. Or had Tony even realised that himself?

This situation was worse, much worse than when Tony had come out of hospital after he’d been made ill as a result of that awful DPB so-called interview. Then his walking had been very bad and at first he’d only been able to eat yoghurts and protein drinks but he’d had improved because he’d wanted to. This time it was as though Tony had given up.

There, he’d said it, only to himself, but it was horrifying in its implications. Tony’s essential character, which was brave and tenacious, had never disappeared even after the shooting, but now it was as though everything that defined him was disappearing.

He’d expected the talking to start again, the soothing background to his thoughts which he’d taken for granted, the interest in the doings of the neighbours, the team, Sadie and ‘the girls’, the music, the jokes and the laughter, having to persuade Tony to rest because he was overdoing it, so much part of Tony – but now nothing. Tony sat mostly silent for hours at a time, occasionally calling Kitty over to him. He managed to eat a little food especially when Jethro guilt-tripped him into eating to avoid hurting Jane’s feelings but that only worked occasionally. As a result, Tony already very thin, had dropped pounds since coming home. All he wanted to do was sleep, nothing else.

Jethro had another fight on his hands, this time against an invisible enemy and he needed help and advice and so did Tony. Whether he would accept it was another matter but in the morning he was going to do his damndest to persuade Tony (again) how much he loved him before he did anything else.

“Love, why don’t you come back home with me and we can talk some more?”

“Don’t want to, not not home any more. Need the head.”

So Tony had pushed himself up off the bed and then made his way to the bathroom. When he came back he had started to fall but Jethro managed to catch him and put him back on the bed.

“I’m going to phone Ducky, you’re not still well, sweetheart.”

“I’m alright, just need more sleep. You go. I’m alright.”

Then his head fell back as he went to sleep again.

After he had made sure Tony was under the covers and propped up against several pillows to help his breathing Jethro rang Ducky.

“Hi Ducky, need your help with Tony.”

“How is Anthony? I know he’s been ill and I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you both yet but as you know, I’ve only just got back from my cruise.”

“I’m very worried about him. Could you come over to the hotel?”

“Hotel, what are you doing away from home?”

“Long story, tell you when you get here.”

Ducky arrived shortly after and checked Tony’s temperature and took his pulse while Tony was still deeply asleep.

“He doesn’t have a fever. You said you were going to tell me what has happened to cause you both to be in a hotel room when you live just a few miles away. And I must say, it’s not exactly the type of hotel for you and Anthony to be spending a second honeymoon at.”

Then Jethro told Ducky that their staying at a hotel was the exact opposite of a second honeymoon.

“Oh dear, poor Anthony. In the short term we need to get him home. He’ll be far more comfortable.”

“I’m not sure he’s thinking of it as home at the moment. We’ll have a job on our hands.”

“In that case I think we’ll just have to take him. I don’t like going against his wishes but he needs to be comfortable and warm and this place is hardly either. He can’t risk getting sick again.”

So, taking advantage of Tony’s state, they lifted him from the bed and eventually got him on the back seat of Jethro’s car.


	2. Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has the flu.

It had started when Jethro had come in one day after fishing and Tony had got up to kiss him hello, turned pale and then collapsed onto the living room floor.

“Love, what’s the matter?”

“Headache,” between gasps of pain.

“Come on, I’ll get you to bed.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“No, I’ll get you to bed and then we’ll see. Sure it’s just a headache? Let me take your temperature once you’re in bed.”

Jethro lifted his husband up and half-carried him into the bedroom. Once Tony was lying on the bed, Jethro took Tony’s temperature. 103.

“Sweetheart, how long have you been feeling ill?”

“Few hours.”

Gibbs had acted quickly, ringing 911 and trying not to show Tony how worried he was. By the time the EMT’s had arrived Tony’s temperature had risen to 105 and he was delirious.

Eyes glazed with fever, Tony moved from side to side, muttering until he whispered, “Dad, dad, d-don’t leave me. It’s scary. Dad!,” not in the voice of a grown man but that of a young, frightened child.

Tony continued to beg and plead for his unseen father not to leave him.

Gibbs felt helpless as held his husband’s hand. He had some idea of what Tony had gone through when he was a child but Tony had never made a big thing of it, just deflected any sympathy with a smile and a joke.

“Brad, is he gonna make it?”

Gibbs had hardly dare ask the question but he had to face facts. He had to know whether his husband would ever smile at him again, that beautiful mile-wide smile.

“Gibbs – Jethro, yes he is very seriously ill but, and you know this better than anyone, he’s a fighter, stubborn as they come and he loves you with all his heart. All we can do is support him medically and emotionally. The medical team to do what we can to help his body fight but you and your friends can help him with touch, the sound of your voices and just by being with him.”

“Jethro, you’re doing everything right. You’re holding his hand, telling him how much he means to you, how much you love him and reminding him of all the happy memories you’ve shared and will share when he’s better.”

“I understand you have a cat?”

“Tony’s,” Jethro answered automatically.

“All the better then. Record her meows and any other sounds she makes.”

“You mean when she yells her head off for food?”

“You got it.”

Callum recorded Kitty, for good measure even videoing her in the hope that when (when?) Tony was more with it he’d enjoy the sight.

Jethro stayed at Tony’s side for hours on end, occasionally brushing through Tony’s sweat-soaked hair, telling him all the time how much he loved him.

“Sweetheart, I’m here. I love you. Honey, don’t leave me. Darling, stay with me.”

He took Tony’s hand – one of his beautiful hands, part of the whole beautiful package. Tony had always taken his good looks for granted, never made a big deal of it to himself but many people had seen only the surface, thinking him a peacock, vain, shallow. He’d found it useful cover to get suspects to underestimate him. Hands with beautifully manicured nails, his only personal vanity, because of what they represented in his life, the effort he’d made to stop biting his nails, the only outward sign of the tough life he’d had.

Sure, he looked after himself, (had had to since the age of twelve, when his father had cut him off), he dressed in designer clothes, kept himself in good shape (in _extremely_ good shape) for which Jethro was very, _very_ grateful.

“Tony, love, I don’t want to hold your hand like this. I want us to walk round the garden holding hands or even the park? I know you don’t like us holding hands in public ‘cause you get embarrassed and blush beautifully when I persuade you to.”

Another of his sweetheart’s foibles. He’d explained that to him it was an intimate, private thing meant only for them. His sweetheart, who was slipping away.

Jethro traced the outline of the long scar across Tony’s wrist, where a suspect had drawn a knife and slashed him with it, cutting an artery.

“Guess I should have searched him better,” he’d said with a grin as he started to lose consciousness, even though Jethro knew it was the fault of one of his colleagues for not carrying out the search thoroughly enough.

And Tony continued in his delirium, trying to get rid of the IV lines, trying to get out of bed, still talking to his absent father.

“Dad, I don’t, d-don’t like it here. It’s dark. It’s scary. Please take me away, please, please,” his voice getting more and more terrified and younger and younger. Until he was almost shouting in the voice that was getting more and more hoarse.

So Jethro had entered his fever dream.

“Junior, I’m here. I’ll take you away. I’m putting on the light right now. Isn’t that better? Don’t be scared. I love you, I’ll protect you. You’re safe now.”

After hours of Gibbs’ constant reassurance, Tony finally stilled.

“Are you re-really going to take me away?”

“Of course. Come with me. You’re safe now.”

Then the fever had started to abate.

And the coughing had started.

Soon Tony was struggling to catch his breath. Long before that Brad was at his side, trying to reassure Gibbs but unable to control his expression.

“I’m afraid he’s developed pneumonia. The oxygen isn’t doing its job, neither are the drugs. If he doesn’t start breathing easier I’ll have to put him on a ventilator and he might not come out of that.”

The fever had wracked his body as he had thrown himself from side to side in his delirium trying to escape his hallucination. Then the spasms caused by his coughing had lifted him off the bed until he’d become too weak even to do that. The coughing and struggles to breathe had depleted his energy so much that now he lay passive, unmoving. 

The sound of his wheezing had filled the room until he could no longer push enough breath even to make that sound.

Gibbs looked at the man that he loved. When they removed the oxygen mask to wipe his face or to moisten his dry lips Jethro saw that his sweetheart looked _done_ , so defeated.

“You can’t catch a break can you, my love?”

Tony had had to fight for most of his life and now it was as though he couldn’t anymore. As though he wanted it to end. Is that what he really wanted? To leave? To say goodbye? So that he could finally be at rest.

Jethro knew the effort that Tony had put into being the best he could be after the shooting, not just the physical effort but the emotional effort. Mostly Tony was happy with just the occasional sad smile, making the best of things, adapting and adjusting but he’d also seen the effort that he had some days to put on that smile and laugh and joke but which he so often hadn’t admitted. Though he knew Tony loved him with all his heart he still kept some things hidden because he’d learned from experience not to expect support or understanding and, terribly, that had often been the case at NCIS with his colleagues and with him as his boss.

“My love. Is that what you want? Not to have to fight? To stop so you can have some rest at last? To stop the suffering? I know how much you’ve fought, how much you hide from me. Perhaps one day you would have let me in all the way and told me everything. Please don’t leave me. But I’ll let you go if that’s what you want.”

Then Jethro did something he hadn’t done in a long time, he prayed.

“Lord, please give him rest. I don’t want him to suffer any more. I’m letting him go.”

Shortly afterwards, Brad came to the chapel.

“He’s not, not…”

“No, he’s breathing more easily. He might make it.”

So Jethro’s days resumed with him holding Tony’s hand, talking to him and reassuring him.

“You decided to come back. I’m so glad you did, my sweetheart. I love you.”

Several days later.

“Where?”

“Hospital.”

“W-why?”

“You’ve been sick.”

“Oh,” then he’d turned over and gone to sleep, this time, a natural, health-giving sleep.

Alix had come into the room.

“He’s asleep. What a relief. Why don’t you shower and change while he’s asleep? I’ll stay here. Go, go.” She’d almost shooed him out of the room.

Gibbs went home, showered and changed, half -awake, so he made some coffee and sat down just for a minute to drink it. He awoke with a start. Looking at his watch he was horrified to see that three hours had passed so he hurried back to the hospital. As he entered the room it was to hear Alix trying to calm Tony down.

“Where’s Jethro? Where’s he gone?”

“I’m here, sweetheart. Sorry I left you for a while.”

“Thought you’d left me.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

“Dad came. He saved me.”

Jethro looked at Alix.

“Honey, I’m just going to get a coffee with Alix. We’ll be right back.”

“Did his father come?”

“No. I don’t know what he means.”

Of course, the fever dream. Something else to deal with. But first things first – getting Tony well.

“B-but I’m better. I can go home now,” Tony pleaded.

“Honey, that’s true but you’re still not well. You’ll have to take it easy for a while.”

“Home?”

Jethro never could resist that look in Tony’s eyes.

“Brad, what do you say?”

“We-ell, Tony, you’ll have to be careful. Sleep when you feel tired and you know you’ll often feel tired until you’re fully recovered. You also need to exercise but I mean no long sessions in the gym, no more than fifteen minutes at a time for the next few weeks and then with someone there. The same with your walks. What I’m saying is, that you’re still very weak and you don’t want to risk falling and hurting yourself. Don’t, _do_ _not_ overdo it. I know you’re stubborn but be careful. If you’re not, you’ll be back here. You have your own watchdog to make sure you are careful.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Gibbs will make sure you do what I say.”

“So when can I go home?”

Jethro and Brad smiled.

“You’ll never change.”

Tony was ambulant but still unsteady on his feet and once again having to use an aid, this time a stick, despite his objections.

Gibbs thought “he’s so thin and pale.”

Talking was more of an effort than usual and his husband could only hold a conversation for five minutes before he had to stop which frustrated him.

“If you promise to do what I say, you can go home tomorrow.”

Tony’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“Yes, sweetheart, only one more night.”

“In prison?”

Gibbs laughed for the first time in weeks.

“That’s right.”

The next day, Jethro came early because he knew Tony would be getting anxious. When he got there, Tony was sitting by the bed, his go bag on his lap.

“You’re late.”

“Honey, it’s only 0800 hours.”

“Feels later.”

Jethro was taken by surprise at the unaccustomed sharpness of Tony’s voice but put it down to his natural anxiety to get home. After all, he’d been through a lot, again.

“I brought your coat and scarf. It’s really cold outside.”

Gibbs wrestled Tony into his coat, noting how it swamped him now that he’d lost so much weight.

“Darling, I think you’d be safer in the back. You can lie down and sleep if you want.”

“I’ve slept too much.”

“Alright, sit in the front.”

He tried to help him into the car but Tony batted away his helping hand.

“Can do it.”

He managed to get into the seat but his hands shook too much to fasten the seat belt.

“Honey, let me do it.”

“Alright.” He sat passively while Gibbs fastened him in.

He drove even more carefully than usual trying not to disturb Tony, who, despite himself had fallen asleep. 

“Want help with the seatbelt, honey?”

“I can do it.”

Then Jethro had left him while he went to open up the house and then came back to help his husband who had managed to unfasten his seatbelt but was struggling to get out of the car.

“Honey, give me a hug.” And Tony obediently put his arms round Gibbs as Gibbs pulled him up and out of the car.

He’d gone to make some hot chocolate for Tony and when he brought it back he was sitting on the couch with his coat still on.

“Darling, it’s best you take your coat off. Do you want me to help?”

“Um.”

Gibbs took that as a yes and helped him off with his coat.

“How are you feeling?”

“Dishrag.”

They both smiled, although Tony’s was not his usual dazzling one.

“Glad to be home?”

Then came the full glorious smile.

“So, so glad, Jethro.”

“And Kitty is glad to see you as well.”

“N-not you?”

“Of course, my love. It isn’t home without you here.”

“Here’s your drink.”

Tony took it with shaking hands.

When he’d managed to finish it, with an effort, it was obvious that he was fading fast.

“Why don’t you have a rest?”

“Don’t need it. Still morning.” But his eyes kept closing against his will and then his head fell back as he went to sleep, sitting upright and awkwardly. Gibbs brought a pillow and blanket and then moved Tony so that he was full length on the couch with the pillow under his head and the blanket covering him. Kitty soon joined him and snuggled under the blanket.

He woke several hours later, dislodging Kitty who gave an irritated meow, leapt from the couch and stalked off.

“Honey, I’ve made you something to eat and drink.”

“Not hungry.”

“I know sweetheart, but you need to keep your strength up. Try to eat a little.”

Gibbs had made up a tray rather than get Tony to eat at the table. He’d even put a flower on it but Tony ignored that and looked at the food with distaste, totally unlike the way he normally viewed his meals.

“Come on, darling. Please eat something.”

To himself, Gibbs thought he sounded like when he’d tried to tempt Kelly to eat when she was going through one of her food fads. 

“Just try to eat a little and then I won’t nag you.”

So Tony picked at the food but did manage a few bites.

“Had enough.”

“You did good.” (Liar, liar, Gibbs thought to himself).

So the day dragged on, with Tony too tired to do anything and Jethro getting more and more concerned. At 1900 hours he was relieved to hear Tony say,

“Going to bed now. I’m tired.”

“Sure, my love. Do you want me to help you?”

“No, can m-manage.”

Nevertheless, Gibbs followed him into the bedroom to make sure Tony didn’t fall.

Once Tony was safely in bed, he let the neighbours know that Tony was home but asking them not to come round until he told them that Tony was ready to see visitors. He knew it was up to Tony to decide but knowing him he’d ask them round well before he was fit to receive visitors and tire himself out. 

The team were getting case after case so none of them had been able to visit Tony in hospital and it looked as though they wouldn’t be free for quite some time.

After he’d WhatsApped the group, Jane had phoned.

“Hello Gibbs, I know you said not to visit but we’re all concerned and want to help. I know you have Alix and Callum so please tell me if I’m overstepping. Would it be alright if I made some of your favourite meals?”

“Tony’s not eating much.”

“I was thinking small portions and special treats for Tony until he gets his appetite back and larger meals for you. I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

Jethro realised he was hungry, hadn’t eaten properly for weeks.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll do it every day until you tell me to stop. I remember when I was looking after my mother, I hardly had time to eat so it would be my pleasure to help you like this.”

Jane, although excellent company, had rarely volunteered much personal information to him, although had probably done so to Tony, the sociable and concerned listener. 

Tony went to bed early that day having eaten very little again at dinner-time. Still, tomorrow would be a good day or so Gibbs told himself. Apart from all the times Tony had been injured in the line of duty, not to mention after his bout of plague it seemed that Gibbs was doomed to spend much of his time in hospital rooms or trying to get a convalescent Tony to eat.

The next day Jethro encouraged Tony to take some exercise.

“Honey, the sun’s shining. Let’s go for a walk round the garden.”

“Cold.”

“I know, but you can wrap up warm.”

Tony gave a barely concealed sigh.

“Alright.”

“Come on then, sweetheart.”

They walked round the garden with Tony leaning heavily on his stick and Gibbs trying desperately to point out things in the garden, something, anything, to pique his interest but mid-winter was hardly the time and he wasn’t the greatest gardener in the world.

“I’ve had enough, can we go back?”

“Sure.”

Then they’d gone back indoors and Tony had sat down heavily on the couch. Now Jethro really was worried. Tony never ever admitted defeat and saying that he’d had enough was totally out of character. Then Kitty had jumped on Tony’s lap and while he’d reflexively stroked her it was without the string of endearments that he normally used when he talked to her.

Tony looked at the beautifully prepared meal with very little interest and managed a few bites before putting the fork down.

“Can’t,” and sat back.

“Love, it’s alright. You tried. I can tell Jane you’ve eaten some of it. She’ll be pleased.”

That couple of weeks were trying for both Tony and Jethro. Tony seemed to be exhausted all the time so everything was an effort for him and it was an effort for Jethro to encourage him to do anything. It was more of the same, wash, rinse, repeat.

In desperation, Jethro phoned Brad.

“Brad, he’s just not himself at all. Yes, I know that being so ill he won’t bounce back but this is so unlike him.”

“He’s not spiked any temperatures or anything like that?”

“No, nothing physical. It’s just so different this time.”

“I suggest you give him a bit more time to recover, keep doing what we said. One thing is, does he have anything he’d really like to do?”

Of course not, just to be able to walk without limping and without stammering when he spoke or…. Gibbs restrained himself. That train of thought was hardly going to be useful and Brad was after all, trying to help him in this.

“Well, he loves Italy, not surprising really, and he has said he’d like to go back there.”

“Why not give him that to look forward to? If you time it right, you should have good weather, depending which part you go to. And if you make it a good long time then it will help him recuperate. I’ll need to give him another full physical to check he’s alright to fly.”

Jethro had seized on the idea of having a project to carry out, especially as it was for Tony. But of course, once again, he hadn’t thought to involve his husband, so wrapped up was he with the thought of giving Tony a wonderful surprise.

The weeks went on, with very little sign of improvement in Tony’s health and as Jethro said to himself, his attitude. It really was as though he had given up. He who had never in his life given up. Then Tony had left him.


	3. Talking Therapy - Ducky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jethro and Ducky talk about how to help Tony.

Once Ducky and Jethro had brought Tony home and put him to bed and they were sure that he was comfortably asleep they went into the living-room.

Jethro went to make Ducky some tea and himself some coffee then decided that this conversation called for Scotch and bourbon.

“Oh, thank you.” Ducky tasted appreciatively. “The Scotch I gave you for Christmas.”

“Just making sure you got the good stuff when you came to visit?”

“You might very well think that: I couldn’t possibly comment.” 

“First Jethro, you know only too well that I normally wouldn’t consider having the sort of discussion I think we’re going to have without Tony but judging by how Tony was when we brought him back from the hotel, he is obviously still very unwell. So, Jethro, what has happened?”

Jethro explained that Tony had been discharged from hospital weeks ago but wasn’t making any progress and then because of that awful misunderstanding he’d left Jethro.

“Ducky, it’s as though Tony’s given up. Brad did say that you can get depression after flu. I’m beginning to think that’s what the problem is. You know that Tony has never given up in his life. Well, he has now.”

“Jethro, from what you’ve just told me the situation does need some kind of intervention. So tell me more.”

Jethro described the lack of appetite, Tony’s unwillingness to even walk in the garden or basically, do anything but sleep.

“Of course you’ve talked to Brad?”

“He said to leave it for a while and to try to give Tony something to look forward to. And when I did that it went down like a lead balloon. I was thinking he was feeling the effects of the flu, physical, not mental that is.”

“But you have to remember that Anthony has always found it very difficult to open up about his feelings. And often when he has he makes a joke of it so you can never tell whether he’s serious or not. Do you think that he would tell you if he was feeling depressed?”

“Of course not. Normally he’d just smile and joke. Now he doesn’t even do that.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps if he’s not hiding those feelings, it might be better for him in the long run. Tell me, did anyone ever talk to him about the shooting?”

Surprised at the change of tack, Gibbs said, “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Just bear with me.”

“He’s had tests, numerous ones. They’ve tested everything they could, his physical and cognitive abilities time after time and of course they’ve talked to him as part of the tests. You know that.”

“Yes I do but I assume it was more to do with events round the shooting and about his work at NCIS. Has anyone talked about his feelings? He’s lost so much.”

“After that awful DPB interview he told me how they’d made him feel and the transcript certainly backed that up.”

Jethro wasn’t going to tell Ducky that as a result of that interview Tony had been so upset he’d asked Jethro for a divorce. That was just too painful a memory and so private as well. There was only so much personal information he was prepared to share both for Tony’s and his sake.

“But that’s not quite the same is it? And from what little he’s told me about his father, he was constantly putting him down. And the team and you, Jethro, aren’t exactly blameless either. And I hardly helped calling him a narcissist because his masks were so effective.”

Gibbs thought sadly about all the times at NCIS when they had treated Tony so badly, not really understanding that he often behaved in an obnoxious and annoying manner because he needed to feel that he mattered, that someone would take notice of him.

“So Anthony has had a very rough deal in many ways, has made the best of it most wonderfully but has apparently never really opened up to you, the person he loves most. And he’s never really been given the chance, the space if you will, to do so to anyone else. Is that an accurate summary?”

Jethro was not longer speaking to a kind, grandfatherly old man, but to an objective scientist with an incisive mind, a trained and perceptive profiler (unlike poor Kate who had never understood Tony).

“You know I’ve always told him how much I love him. He’s everything to me.”

Jethro hated sounding so sentimental in front of anyone but Tony but it was the truth and anything to help his husband.

“I know Jethro, but it’s still not the same is it? He’s never spoken to a professional in that context. I understand that when he and Dr Kate’s Sister as he so charmingly calls her, spoke at NCIS it was for the purpose of work.”

“Sure.”

“I suspect that being Anthony he wants to protect you, so in some way, terrible though it sounds, he won’t open up to you because he’s afraid that it might worry you. We both know that he has such low self-esteem that I have no doubt he thinks that if he tells you about how he really feels at times you might think less of him or even give up on him.”

That truly did shock Jethro.

“But Ducky…”

Ducky was relentless.

“Tell me, have you ever known Anthony lose his temper?”

“Of course, everyone does.”

“I mean really lose it, not just get angry or irritated.”

“In the Interrogation Room, when the case has involved a child or a rape and sometimes when he’d try to frighten a suspect to get to the truth.”

“Forgive me, if this is getting too personal, but would you mind telling me whether he’s ever lost his temper with you?”

“I certainly know when he’s angry with me.” Jethro remembered some epic fights they’d had but then thought again – no, he was the one that fought, often with cutting and harsh words but Tony just stood his ground, said his piece calmly in that soft voice of his and walked away.

“When he does, he tells me why he disagrees, then walks away for a couple of hours or plays the piano. Even at NCIS he used to stand his ground, tell me his reasons for disagreeing and then leave it.”

“So he’s never lost it, really lost It?”

“He gets frustrated at times and will say so but now he’s one of the most even-tempered people I know. One of the reasons they call him ‘sweetheart’ at Bethesda.”

“So he never allows himself that loss of control?”

“Hey, Ducky, that’s unfair to Tony, he is a sweetheart and he is normally so sunny tempered. And are you really saying you think he ought to be having violent outbursts?”

“Of course not and I don’t want to hurt you or Anthony but we need to talk about this. So Anthony has never openly, to you, lost control over the consequences of the shooting or anything else?”

“There was one time, too private, but that was only once.”

“Don’t you think he might be putting himself under a lot of pressure to keep it all in or do you think he’s in some form of denial?”

“Of course he’s not in denial. Look at the way he’s fought to get better and every day, you’ve said it yourself, he’s faced with his physical and cognitive shortcomings or damage as he calls it and he adapts to them.”

But then Gibbs thought of the nightmares, now decreasing thank goodness but still regular. Luckily, Tony never seemed to remember them or perhaps he didn’t want to upset him by mentioning them? Just after his father’s last visit he’d had an anxiety attack, again something that happened less and less but it hurt that Tony was always so apologetic after them.

“I agree, he’s always been very pragmatic and that hasn’t changed. But I still wonder whether he’s been making deliberate and ongoing attempts to keep down the very real anger and sorrow that he must feel at the massive and irreversible changes to his life.”

“Why? He knows he can always talk to me.”

And then Jethro realised yet again, that just wasn’t true. He hoped that Tony knew he could always talk to him but Tony so often didn’t, not about this.

“But he hasn’t been from what you have just said.”

“Tony’s still very private. Often won’t let me in.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“He doesn’t want me to see it because – no, he loves me and knows I love him.”

“But does he trust you? Does he trust himself? That you won’t give up on him because he’s admitting to weakness?”

“But I see that weakness every day and it doesn’t stop me loving him. When I see that weakness I also see his strength, his determination. He doesn’t moan, he’s sweet tempered and he cares about others. He may be physically weak in many ways but he’s one of the strongest men I know.”

“But does he allow you to see the times when he’s too weak to fight or just doesn’t have the energy? Does he ask for help when he needs it or struggle by himself until you have to step in?”

That silenced Jethro. It was so very true. 

Tony had struggled for hours trying to prepare for the second DPB interview by himself, putting himself under tremendous pressure until Jethro had persuaded him to accept his and the team’s help. But it had been an effort to get Tony to accept it. When Tony had lost his balance and had exhausted himself trying to get up but hadn’t called for Jethro, lying on the floor for an hour, when he’d answered the door to a cold caller, lost his words and then been subjected to a torrent of abuse until Jethro had heard it and rescued him. Yes, rescued him, rather summed up their relationship at times. He’d never thought, really considered, how those occasions might make Tony feel. Like a child, a needy one at that. 

He thought about the number of times that Tony had apologised for needing his help, thanked him of course but still making it clear that he was ashamed of needing help.

As far as Jethro was concerned he was just helping his husband out as you would anyone but particularly someone you love like he loved Tony. In a way, shouldn’t you be secure enough to be able to take such help for granted? People helped each other especially when love came into the equation. After all, Gibbs still woke up sad sometimes, thinking about the way Shannon and Kelly had died. Tony always knew and offered him comfort or the space to grieve alone. Tony was so sensitive to his moods and he knew he could be a moody bastard at times but it didn’t faze Tony at all.

Jethro loved to hear Tony talk, the yabba yabba that he used to complain about at NCIS, half-joking, but now so thankful that Tony could talk at all, although sometimes stumbling over his words or forgetting them altogether, but he _was_ talking and making sense with his acute observations. The verbal brilliance was diminished because of his problems with figurative speech but that didn’t matter at all as far as Jethro was concerned.

Tony’s laughter was something to lighten the spirit. It was a joyous thing to hear. Gibbs abruptly stopped that train of thought - sentimental, rambling, old fool…but if only Tony could believe what he was thinking.

Tony had minimised the effect the shooting had had on his body but how do you create from scratch someone’s self-esteem, which at times seemed to be non-existent in Tony’s case?

“What do you do when something happens that shows he can’t do something he used to be able to do or if he’s having a bad day and his words won’t come or he can’t remember how to do something without prompts?”

“We treat it as just one of those things. We have to, otherwise Tony would never be able to cope. Yes, that’s our coping mechanism. But I’d never make him feel stupid or worthless, never.”

“Of course not, but I suspect he often feels like that anyway. Just because it’s been years since the shooting and you’ve changed your lives to accommodate that doesn’t change what has happened. Both of you have done so well in adapting to the situation but the fact remains that Anthony is not the man he used to be or wishes to be and he lives with that every day.”

“Has anyone mentioned the possibility that he might be suffering from very well hidden PTSD? Anthony should have the chance to talk about his feelings without involving you.”

“But…”

“Please let me finish, Jethro. If you were there he’d likely try to protect you still. After all, his whole adult life has been about protecting and serving. Now, in his own individual way, I think he has been trying to protect you from him and his condition. I don’t think his leaving you has just been about the misunderstanding over the holiday.”

“I think his father’s visit, the fever dream he had, his illness, they’ve all come together. Added to that years of abuse, mainly verbal but I’m sure, sometimes physical.”

“His father?”

“Possibly. Is his father handy with his fists? Anthony’s a brawler. Perhaps that’s where it comes from but Anthony has fought to defend others or himself, not to inflict hurt on someone for the sake of it.”

“This latest, very severe illness has been a catalyst. He’s weak physically and emotionally vulnerable. Hating that at the moment he has become much more dependent on you again. He thought you were cheating on him, jumping to a conclusion that he wouldn’t normally make if he was feeling well. At least he would have asked you, making a joke of it I have no doubt. I think if you dig deeper, this latest illness has brought up feelings that he has tried to hide from you and sometimes even to himself. I remember just after he was shot, he wanted you to leave him because he thought he was a burden.”

“He’s so independent and I’m sure, resents, yes, resents it when he has to ask for help and I think there are times when he’d rather struggle to do something than ask you to help him. He’s been independent since his father disowned him at such a young age and now he is so much more dependent. That’s decades of being independent with having no one against the few years that you’ve been together. He’s never relied on anyone before because basically there was no one for him to rely on. And when you got together and then married it was a partnership of equals although I suspect that Anthony even then might not have seen it as such. But now, now?”

“No doubt at times, he hates, yes hates that he has become more dependent on you.”

“Tell me, Jethro, I know you and Anthony danced round each other for quite a while before you got together. Who made the first move?”

“I did. I could tell Tony was never going to.”

“What made you think that?”

“My gut.”

“Of course, the famous Gibbs’ gut. Another way of saying you knew that Anthony would not have the confidence to make the first move because he was afraid of rejection. This man, who on the outside was so confident, self-assured, cocky even. But you knew that a lot of his behaviour was designed to deflect any chance of rejection because he’d been so hurt in his childhood. Why don’t you remind him that you’re the one that made the first move? That in a way, you loved him first. You opened yourself up to the possibility of him turning you down because you didn’t want him to move on. You loved him enough to risk that. And he had the power to reject you.”

“If we’re not careful, Anthony will sink deeper and deeper into depression and who knows where that might end? You, we, can’t let him continue to be so unhappy.”

“I’ve been trying, Duck.”

Ducky reached out a reassuring hand to a shellshocked Jethro.

“I know and this is in no way intended to be a criticism. You’ve been a marvellous support and help to Anthony and a lot of the time he is very happy and you both love each other so much. The whole atmosphere in this house is relaxed and often filled with laughter and that’s down to the effort you have both made and to Anthony’s character and to your relationship but you do need to talk to him and not let these issues fester.”

“What’s next?”

“I suggest you talk to Anthony. Challenge him even, to tell you how he is feeling and not be put off by his saying he’s fine.”

They both smiled at that. Fine used by Tony had such a different meaning than that used by the rest of the world.

“Try to help him understand, again, that you won’t love him any less, you never have, because of how he is now. That he’s allowed to feel sad, he doesn’t have to put on a front, particularly for you.”

Another change of tack.

“Jethro, I’m with you all the way, but you have to start the process.”

“Thank you, Ducky, I think."


	4. Talking Therapy - Jethro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jethro talks to Tony.

Jethro decided it was better if he slept in one of the guest bedrooms that night but checked on Tony every so often to find him sleeping peacefully.

The next morning he woke Tony up but without his usual morning kiss.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Jethro.”

Then Tony looked round, suddenly realising he was back home, no, he didn’t have a home anymore.

“You, you kid-kidnapped me.”

“No, sweetheart. Ducky and I brought you home.”

“Don’t have a h-home.”

“You do. Here.”

“No, no. You don’t want me anymore. You have someone else.”

“Sweetheart, we talked about this yesterday. I was planning a surprise.”

Tony looked at him. It was obvious that he’d forgotten their conversation of the day before.

“Honey, do you remember what we talked about yesterday? The holiday I planned for you as a surprise?”

Recollection came flooding back into Tony’s face.

“Y-yes, but you lied.”

“Sweetheart, I’d never, ever cheat on you. Why should I when you’re everything to me?”

“You lied to m-me.”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“W-why do something like that for me? I’m not worth it.”

“Please don’t say things like that. You are so worth it.”

“Why? Can’t do anything. You have to s-spend s-so much time with me. I s-should go.”

“My love, please don’t say things like that. Have I ever said I didn’t want to help you?”

“Waste of time. You left me before.”

Ironically instead of his having to get Tony to open up, Tony was opening up with a vengeance, but what did he mean about him leaving Tony?

“When did I leave you?”

“W-when I was ill. Dad saved me but you left me.”

Puzzled, Jethro was trying to make sense of this and then he remembered the fever dream and, when, despairing of Tony’s life, he had been willing to let him go rather than see him suffer any more, as he was so spent, exhausted and at the limits of his endurance.

“Sweetheart, that was a dream. You were so ill you thought you were back in that hotel room that your dad left you in. You were really frightened, so I pretended to be your dad and said I’d get you out of there and soon after your fever went down.”

“So you lied again.”

“Just to help you.”

“W-when you left me?”

“You were so very ill. I thought you wanted to go. I didn’t want to keep you in this life if you wanted to go.”

The tears were pouring down Tony’s face, the tears he so rarely allowed himself and he was shaking with emotion. Jethro ached to take him in his arms, to give him the comfort he desperately needed. To hell with it. Jethro leant forward, and very gently, took Tony in his arms.

Tony struggled, a little, and Jethro was ready to let go but then he saw the look of utter desolation in his husband’s face and he held him tighter.

“You’ve just about had enough haven’t you? You say I’ve lied to you but you’ve lied as well. To me and to yourself. You haven’t told me how sad you’ve been feeling have you? You can trust me to because I love you and I’d do anything for you.”

Tony sagged against Jethro’s shoulder, who put him back down on the bed. Then he lay down beside him and took him in his arms once more, constantly telling how much he loved Tony and that he would never leave him.

 _That_ talk was going to have to happen tomorrow. Tony had started the conversation (if you could call it that) but he wasn’t going to put him under any more stress at the moment. 

“Good morning, love. How about staying in bed again today and resting? We don’t need to talk about anything. What about some hot chocolate with marshmallows and cookies? You haven’t had any breakfast yet.” (Not that Tony had had what could be called breakfast for weeks but Jethro wasn’t going to let that stop him from trying).

Tony nodded and lay back on the pillows, the dark shadows under his eyes contrasting with the white of the pillowcase.

“Would you like me to send in Kitty?”

Tony nodded again. Kitty was most definitely not allowed in their bedroom despite Tony’s best efforts to smuggle her in at times but to hell with any normal routine if it meant that Tony would get better. Gibbs wondered why he hadn’t thought of doing that weeks ago.

Jethro brought in the hot chocolate and cookies with Kitty following him. She jumped up onto the bed and Tony hugged her, obviously taking comfort from her presence. The wretched creature started to knead the blanket, pulling at the material. Not allowed but Jethro wasn’t going to call her out on it. Whatever was going to provide Tony with comfort and help him relax was alright by him.

Jethro was about to leave to let Tony rest again when Tony said, “D-did you mean it?”

“Mean what, love?”

“A-about the sur-surprise.”

Tony’s stammer was worse than usual. Stress always did that to him.

“Yes, I know you’ve been wanting to go back to Italy and I thought it would be a treat for you. A nice long holiday in the sun. I can always cancel if you don’t want it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and I upset you so much.”

“You did that that f-for me?”

Jethro winced at the disbelief and uncertainty in Tony’s voice.

“Honey, anything for you. You still don’t get it do you? I’d do anything, anything for you because I love you. You’re precious to me.”

“Oh.” Tony’s voice was flat as though it was too much to take in. He’d never been precious or of value to anyone until Jethro.

“W-why do something like that? I’m I’m n-not worth it.”

“Please don’t say things like that, honey. You are so worth it.”

“Why? Can’t do anything. You have to spend so much time with me and pay people to look after me, babysitters, better I-I go.”

“We employ Alix and Callum to be with you so you don’t get lonely if I go out. You know it was a joint decision, sweetheart. Anyway you decide when you want them to visit. They’re certainly not babysitters. And when have I ever said I didn’t want to spend time with you or to help you?”

“Waste of time. I can go.” And then, openly bitter now, he listed all his deficits and the reasons why he should leave. The first time that Jethro had heard him do so in such a way.

Jethro came back towards the bed and took his husband’s hand and stroked it gently.

“I love you. How many times do I have to say it? Please trust me. I’m telling you the truth. Sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll always be here. Please try to believe that. Now, why don’t you try to sleep again?”

Tony slid down the bed and was asleep in seconds as Kitty snuggled against him.

Gibbs looked in on Tony every so often and then, after a couple of hours, Tony woke, looking slightly more rested than he had for a while.

“Sweetheart, it’s lunchtime. Could you manage something to eat? Jane has made some soup for us.”

So they had the soup together on the bed, or rather Jethro drank all of his while Tony had a few spoonsful.

This time, to save their meal, Jethro had put Kitty out of the room.

Once they’d finished the meal, Jethro continued the struggle.

“You don’t think you can trust me? But you have such power to hurt me because I love you. It hurts me when I realise you don’t trust me.”

He realised that Tony was genuinely surprised that he could have such power over his husband, that he at times he didn’t really understand his place in their relationship.

“Jethro, please, p-please let me go. I’m no, no use to you.”

“No, never. Not now. I’m going to fight for you. Or are you saying you don’t want me anymore?”

“N-no, not that. Why should you want me?”

“I’ll say this again and I’ll keep saying it until one day you might believe me. I love you, you’re precious, so precious to me. I’m not prepared to walk out on our relationship even if you are.”

“But, I don’t, don’t want to need, to need…” Tony shook his hands in frustration, finally making the sign for ‘help’.”

“It’s so not about me helping you. You help me live. I enjoy being with you. I’m not doing you a favour by staying with you. I need you as much as you need me, if not more.” 

“Sweetheart I mostly know when you’re pretending or hiding something from me. I wish you wouldn’t. It hurts that you don’t trust me enough to tell me, but that’s OK, if it makes you feel better. I know you think you’ll worry me.”

“N-no, not that. Why should you want me?”

Tony looked unconvinced.

“Look at my track record. The three wives after Shannon, the girlfriends in between. I didn’t stay with any of them and I’ve stayed with you.”

“Pity.” Tony didn’t attempt to disguise the bitterness again.

Then Gibbs really did see red and for the first time ever since the shooting he let his second b out to Tony.

“Tony! How can I get you to believe me?”

Tony looked up at the use of his given name.

“Yes, it’s Tony time now.”

“Wh-at?”

“I told you before when you asked me for a divorce. Without you, I wouldn’t really be living. I tried so hard to get together with you. I was scared that you wouldn’t be interested. That you’d turn me down.”

“ _Me_ turn _you_ down?”

“Sure, why would you have wanted me? Old, bitter, bastard, who treated you so badly.”

“B-But…so you’ve been keeping things from me again?”

“Couldn’t believe my luck when you said yes to us getting together. Wasn’t going to take it for granted. So I just grabbed the opportunity before someone better than me came along and took you away.”

Now Gibbs was exasperated and angry with himself. He’d nearly called his husband a stupid idiot, words which had had to be excised from his vocabulary since the shooting.

“I can’t stand you putting yourself down all the time and basically saying I’m mad for loving you. So you’re saying you don’t think much of me for loving you? That hurts me you know. Do you love me? If you think so badly of me then perhaps you don’t love me after all. Perhaps it was a mistake our getting together in the first place and the biggest mistake of all to get married. Perhaps I shouldn’t fight to stay with you after all.”

Gibbs’ face showed his desperation as his words devastated Tony.

“I-I don’t mean…” Tony was jolted by that. This was the Jethro from NCIS, the Boss, hard, focussed.

Jethro pursued what little advantage he felt he had in this conversation.

“So let’s have a proper talk where you don’t accuse me of staying with you out of pity and you’ll try to believe me when I tell you that I love you.”

“Tony, you’ve talked about me keeping secrets from you but you’ve been keeping a secret from me.”

“W-what?”

“You’ve been feeling sad ever since you got out of hospital.”

“No, no.”

“Tony, you’re very good at pretending but not so good at it when you’re ill. You have, haven’t you?”

Jethro was really pushing Tony to reply, almost in interrogation mode.

“Come on, Tony, the truth.”

Jethro hated almost bullying his husband about this but he hoped that the shock might make Tony tell the truth.

Tony began to speak as though the words were being forced out of him.

“S-sad. Nothing works anymore.”

Finally, finally.

“It can’t go on like this. If you’re not careful you’ll starve yourself to death – do you really want that? And if you don’t do some exercise, you know what will happen. Your legs will seize up and you won’t be able to walk properly.”

“Can’t walk properly anyway.”

“Come here, sweetheart. We’ll sort it out. It won’t last forever.”

“Seems like it,” Tony whispered into his shoulder.

“No, sweetheart. We’ll come up with a plan.”

“How?”

“Brad told us that flu can cause depression. Would you want to talk to him to see what he suggests? Or do you want to stay feeling this way?”

Now that Tony had finally been more open with Jethro, he said, “No. Don’t like it. But I-I don’t want drugs. Had enough.” 

“That’s not the only choice. You could talk to someone. I’d love it if you could talk to me but I think perhaps you’d rather talk to someone outside, a professional. You don’t have to make a decision now. Why don’t you rest again?”

Gibbs saw that Tony was tiring especially given the shock of his tough love and his problems with concentrating for more than an hour or so at a time.

“All I do is sleep.”

“Then try to eat something for a change.”

There was a flicker of amusement on Tony’s face, something he hadn’t seen for a couple of months.

“Bully.”

“You got me. But you’ve dropped way too many pounds. Try to eat something, please, pretty please.” Gibbs fluttered his eyelashes at Tony and simpered.

Tony laughed.

“That won’t, won’t work from my tough Marine.”

“What would work?”

“Kiss me.”

And Gibbs did, so thoroughly that they were left breathless.

“That felt like a meal.”

“Nope. You can’t use that excuse. You need food.”

Then Tony managed to eat a bit more. Jethro’s words had shaken him. When he was feeling low (all the time now) he thought in some deep recess of his mind that Jethro would leave him, if not for someone else, just leave him and then he’d realised that Jethro would stay because no Marine left a man behind willingly, ‘semper fi’ so he would stay out of pity.

He had never thought that he had the power over Jethro that he had talked about. Had Jethro really said that he could make or break his hard as nails Marine? It seemed such a strange idea, so novel, so amazing. So Jethro would never leave him? He could rely on Jethro always? And it wasn’t just pity that would make him stay? It seemed impossible now that he was that important to anyone. He realised he’d just said that aloud.

“Well, honey, it’s about time you learnt. I’ve only been trying to tell you that for years but I’ll spend the rest of my life saying it to you until you believe it.”

So Tony decided to talk to Brad first.

“Well, Tony, I’m glad you’ve come to me rather than continue to suffer. From the symptoms you describe it sounds very much as though you are suffering from depression. Although I’m not a psychiatrist I could prescribe some anti-depressants for you…”

Brad trailed off, seeing Tony’s silent but vehement ‘no.’

“I see, had enough of drugs and the way some of them affect you?”

This time Tony voiced his reply.

“Yes.”

“I’m sure I could find a therapist who would be able to help you.”

“Thank you, Brad, need to do this by myself.”

“Now, where have I heard that before? Just don’t take too long finding someone. You don’t want to feel this way any longer than you need to.”

Tony hadn’t wanted to say that there was more to his present state than depression caused by the flu. He was still shocked by what Jethro had said and didn’t want to tell Brad, good friend that he had become over the years, that if he wasn’t careful he might be responsible for the breakup of his marriage. He had thought that Jethro might leave him, he hadn’t thought he’d drive him away by making him feel unwanted. Tony knew that when he was feeling well, he mostly trusted that Jethro would always stay with him and that it wasn’t out of pity but he was frightened that he might throw everything away when he was feeling the way he did now. 

He wanted to feel happy again, to enjoy his life and his love for Jethro instead of feeling sad and flat all the time.

Jethro had been about to say, “Can we cut a deal?” but hastily amended it to, “Honey, will you make me a promise?”

“D-depends.”

“Would you tell me when you’re feeling really bad so I can help you?”

“What could you do?”

“Love, I’m not leaving you to brood, I’ll leave you by yourself in the sitting room or the den, but I’m staying nearby in case you change your mind and want me to stay closer to you.”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

Tony nodded, so Jethro took him in his arms and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?”

Tony had smiled reluctantly.

So he’d tried to be more open with Jethro, telling him when he was feeling extra sad and asking him either to back off or to stay close, whatever he felt would work that day. He still didn’t feel right and he knew it but at least he could start trying again. 

Tony threw Jethro crumbs by trying to eat more and doing some work in the gym with him. He’d even started to make love to him although it was an effort like so many things were.

“J-Jethro, my decision, mine. I’ll find someone, not McGee and I don’t want you f-following me. I’ll take a phone and my card but please don’t try to. Have forgotten the word.” His face showed his frustration.

“Ping?”

“Y-yes.”


	5. Talking Therapy - Dr Eden Taylor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds a therapist and talks to her.

Tony had spent hours searching the internet, making phone calls and emailing to try to find someone who he thought would be suitable. He hadn’t realised how many types of psychotherapy there were and he had had to take frequent breaks because he would lose the thread when he spent too long at it and there were days when he was too sad to do anything. He didn’t want anyone who had any connections with NCIS or the FBI or any of the other alphabet agencies. He knew he was taking far longer than McGee or even Jethro but it was his project, for him. That seemed strange, something just for him.

Gibbs would casually come into the den ostensibly to ask Tony if he wanted something to drink or a snack and then surreptitiously try to look at the computer screen or he would bring Kitty in as a tempting distraction.

“I thought you might like to play with her for a break,” and then he’d try to look at Tony’s notes which he had to keep typing up in case he forgot.

“Jethro, g-go away or I’ll put a lock on the door,” Tony threatened. Jethro grinned and backed away, glad that Tony was sounding more like his old self.

Although it was a risk that by interrupting him he might break Tony’s concentration, he knew Tony needed to take regular breaks. Sure he was being nosy but he was trying to help even when Tony was shutting him out.

Eventually after a month Tony had found a therapist. From their email exchanges and telephone calls Tony had thought she was professional but friendly. He’d deliberately looked for someone in a small town, where there would be less noise and fewer people. Just another reminder of the shooting which had left him hypersensitive to loud noises and unable to deal with crowds. He needed somewhere he could find his way around easily as well. Although he was generally still good at finding his way round he didn’t want to risk getting lost.

He’d had enough of using walking aids - he could have written a book about wheelchairs, walkers and sticks - but decided after all to take his folding stick with him. He might need it as back up as he was still somewhat unsteady on his feet and the therapist’s office was in an old three storey building so unlikely to have an elevator: he really didn’t want his first introduction to Dr Taylor to be her having to help him up the stairs or falling flat on his face at the top of them. He sighed. Even with the stick he would need to allow extra time to make it up them.

He’d bought a burner phone with cash from a store quite a way away because he knew that Jethro might still try to ping his phone and he’d put his usual phone on silent and hidden it in one of the guest-rooms. He’d told Jethro not to try to contact him.

“If you do, I won’t answer.”

Tony, had, in all fairness, let Jethro know the time of his appointment, in a way. He didn’t want him to have too clear an idea of exactly where or when he was going so he hadn’t told Jethro that the appointment was actually two hours later than he’d said because he was trying to make it difficult for Jethro to work out where he’d gone. He didn’t want him being a a mother hen, yes that was the phrase. He was going to use several taxi firms, ones which he didn’t normally use. Felt like old times, undercover, shaking off a tail. Huh, if only.

Although the second taxi would be taking him right to where he needed to go, he, good former agent that he was, wanted to make sure of his immediate surroundings. He couldn’t rely on being able to remember the layout. Because he wasn’t taking a smartphone with him he had carefully printed out a couple of maps and as carefully had deleted traces of his research. He knew that if Jethro really wanted to find out he could but hoped that he wouldn’t betray his trust.

Tony had prepared for the appointment almost as though it were an interview, which he supposed it was. Shuddering at the memory, he had reminded himself that this meeting wasn’t going to be like the DPB ones. He was a free man – he could walk out any time he wanted.

He’d chosen his clothes carefully, wearing a pair of designer jeans that Jethro had bought him for his birthday and a button-down shirt with one of his pairs of designer shoes. He knew he looked the best he could. This would be his armour.

Although it was spring, it was chilly on the day of his appointment so Gibbs fussed around him.

“Sure you don’t want me to take you? It’ll be nice and warm in the car.”

“N-nice try, J-Jethro, but no.”

“At least wrap up warm and put a scarf on. Have you got your gloves and what about your stick and brain injury card?"

Tony rolled his eyes at his husband but kissed him in thanks as he went out the door, having arranged to meet the taxi round the corner and hoping that Jethro wouldn’t try to follow him.

When he left Jethro who was very worried. Tony was still so unwell, he was going somewhere strange to do something that they both knew would be very challenging for him. If only he could have gone with him but Tony was now at least well enough to assert his independence for which Jethro was grateful so he tried to distract himself in the workshop by making some more toys for the local refuge.

Once Tony had arrived at Main Street he’d gone into a coffee shop just down from the therapist’s office. He’d taken his music and earbuds so he could cut out any loud noises and rung Jethro to say he was going to be a bit late but that everything was going well.

He was pleased to see a man and then a woman had checked him out as he came in and casually let the sun glint off his wedding ring. He still had it. Nice to know even though he was an old married man. 

Feeling slightly less apprehensive because of that he walked up the street to the building where the therapist’s was. Even with the stick the stairs were the challenge he’d thought they’d be. Because he was still so unfit he was breathless by the time he reached the top. He was only glad that no one passed him to witness his struggle. He made it just one minute before his appointment.

**The First Session**

He’d folded his stick and put it in his backpack once he got to the top of the stairs so no one could see and then, standing at the receptionist’s desk, he said, “G-good morning, my my name’s Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs. I h-have an appointment.”

The receptionist looked at the latest client to come in. That’s one handsome man and with an attractive stammer and romantic limp as well. Then she caught sight of the wedding ring. Shame, she’d never try anything with a married man, too complicated.

“Please go through. Dr Taylor is expecting you.”

Tony knocked at the beautifully carved door to Dr Taylor’s room. Jethro would love this.

“Come in.”

As was his habit, Tony scoped the room, which was decorated in delicate shades of green with large, comfortable chairs placed round a long coffee table. There were colourful paintings on the walls, no certificates. No sign of a couch or rows of textbooks on the shelves which instead had an array of ornaments. It was informal, nothing like the forbidding set up that there had been at the first DPB interview, no desk with three interrogators behind it, ready to try to demolish his confidence.

He reminded himself that he was here on his own terms and could leave at any time he wanted.

Eden Taylor was about sixty, a brunette with brown eyes and as she got up from one of the chairs she gave Tony a welcoming smile.

“Good morning, Mr DiNozzo-Gibbs.”

“C-call me Tony, please.”

“Certainly.”

“Let me help you off with your coat.”

“Please take a seat.” (Eden thought, please sit down before you fall down).

Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs was pale, slightly breathless and very thin. He was also strikingly handsome and would be head-turningly so if it weren’t for the marks of illness on his face. In his emails he hadn’t said that he had a heavy limp, presumably as a result of the shooting. Something else to explore perhaps.

He’d explained in his contacts with Dr Eden Taylor that because of his problems with concentration he needed appointments of less than an hour. He’d also asked whether she could record the meetings and email the audio files to him as he could not write fluently and he needed to be able to concentrate on the meeting, not on trying to take notes. He had felt humiliated as he was giving her this information. Why was he putting himself through this? He reminded himself that he loved Jethro and it was for him. He didn’t want to lose Jethro.

“I wanted to go through some of the things that you told me to make sure I have understood you correctly. You said that you had recently had the flu and as a result of that you are suffering from depression and that because of your brain injury some issues had come to the surface and that you wanted to explore those. I understand that you have considered drug therapy but have decided against that.”

“Y-yes.”

Tony wasn’t going to tell her that he was afraid for the future of his marriage if he didn’t get help, that he might ruin it beyond repair. To tell someone else would be like turning himself inside out.

“How are you feeling now?”

“About, about the same. A few good days.”

“Well, let’s see if that can be changed to more good days. I will tell you that therapy is not an easy option. You may find it far harder than you thought because I won’t be giving you solutions to your problems, you will be working them out yourself.”

Tony tensed at that. He wasn’t up to more effort. Too exhausted.

“Could you tell me about your career and then how your brain injury happened.”

Tony first took her through his various stints as a cop and then as an agent and then to that awful, career-ending shooting.

Eden could see that Tony was already tiring. He was starting to lean back into the chair and his hands were trembling slightly.

“Don’t remember much about the shooting. They told me it’s not unusual and that I never will r-remember more now.”

“Tony, would you like to stop?”

“W-why? I can do it.”

Of course he could. He’d do it even if it left him exhausted and shaking.

“Tony, would you like something to drink then? I suggest that we consider ending the session soon and that you come back again next week if you want to continue having therapy with me.”

Tony nodded his thanks. This was far more difficult than he realised.

Yes. A drink, then escape.

Once he’d been given the chance to relax somewhat over a cup of tea, he leaned back against the chair, sipping his tea slowly. 

Eden said, “Do want to continue with more sessions? You can always decide from session to session if you want to continue if you don’t think they are helping.”

“Y-yes, I think so.”

“In that case, if you go back to reception, Jacintha will make an appointment for you. I hope to see you soon. Goodbye, Tony.”

Eden, as was her usual habit between appointments, made some quick notes about her latest and very intriguing client. Between his physical and neurological problems he presented her with somewhat of a challenge. It was obvious that to have made such a recovery from an injury like that he must be very persistent. Would he be wiling to use that quality to help improve his present mental and emotional state? Time would tell.

Tony duly made another appointment and was about to brace himself to tackle the stairs again when Jacintha said, “Mr DiNozzo-Gibbs, we have a private elevator from here to the first floor. Would you like to use it?”

“Yes, please,” trying not to show his relief.

Glad to escape, Tony made his way back to the coffee shop while he waited for the taxi.

“How did it go, honey? Get there alright? Were you warm enough?”

“Jethro, enough. I-I’m fine. Going back next week and no, I’m not telling you about it until I’m r-ready.”

Jethro smiled. Tony was coming back. However he was exhausted when he arrived home, napping on the couch and then going to bed early. 

After that first session he did his ‘homework’ by listening to the audio file of the session that Eden sent through and trying to concentrate on what Eden wanted him to think about. If only –

“I’m alright, Jethro, it’s been tiring. D-don’t worry.”

**The Second Session**

“Hello, Tony, how was your week?”

“Oh, same as usual.”

Eden let that go, making a mental note to find out more about what Tony’s usual week was.

“Tony. You took me up to the shooting and said you couldn’t remember much about the actual event. Could you tell me what you do remember?”

Hurts. Dark. Sounds. Hurts. Loud. Light. Hurts. Can’t. Can’t. Get Away. Hurts. What? Where? Jethro. Please. Can’t. Talk. Jethro. Always. Touch. Hurts. Can’t. Jethro. Heavy. Jethro. Go. Lost. Lost all. Can’t. Can’t. Camp. Hard. Missed Jethro. Tired. Hard. Trying. Jethro here. Glad. Glad.

Tony couldn’t just couldn’t tell her that so as usual he kept back his feelings about that awful time.

“F-for a while, I couldn’t do anything and had to go to, go to Brain Boot Camp. Jethro was there, helping me all the time apart from those first nine, nine d-days in Brain Boot Camp. So patient, so good to me.”

Tony looked down, afraid he’d said too much.

“Tony, just to remind you. This is about you. We can talk about your husband’s role in this later on if necessary. When you say you couldn’t do anything could you tell me what you couldn’t do.”

“Eat, walk, speak, dress. Everything.”

“That sounds a lot.”

“Yes.”

This man was not going to be an easy client. It was becoming obvious to Eden that although he had come for help he was holding back an enormous amount about his feelings.

“When you talk about Brain Boot Camp, what was that?”

“Re-rehab. Can’t re-remember the name of the place. Sorry.”

“I understand.”

“What did you do there?”

“Learned. Learned how to do things again. Th-things I’d lost. Th-things I could do when I was a ch-child.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Stupid.”

Tony stopped himself before he could give vent to his bitterness.

Child. Weak. Helpless.

“Why?”

Tony looked at her in amazement. Was she the stupid one?

“Sorry, don’t, don’t understand, it’s obvious. A grown man having to learn to do everything.”

“But you are here now, walking and talking, able to drink and enjoy the tea I give you. How did you get here?”

“Taxi.”

“Who booked it?”

“I-I did.”

“Who wrote the emails I got?”

“I-I did.”

“So from what you call nothing, you are now able to do everything you could do before?”

“No, No.”

“Tell me then.”

“You hear and see me. Can’t talk properly. Can’t remember names or say them sometimes. Can’t walk properly. Had to tell you about, about my concentration.”

He couldn’t go on with the list. Why had he come to hu-humiliate himself?”

“What did you do to come back from what you call nothing to where you are now?”

Tony thought about the struggle he had, feeling so tired, exhausting himself trying to understand, to get his words out, to remember how to dress and even then it had been a lot later that he’d been able to learn how to put on clothes with sleeves. And Jethro had employed tutors to help once he’d been released, yes released because it felt like prison, from Brain Boot Camp.

“Not easy. Had to try hard.”

“Tony, I think that you are holding things back. Tony, this is your time, your space. I am here to try to help you but I do need you to be honest with me. I understand that at times this is going to be really difficult for you but there is no judgement here. Please could you tell me more about how you felt during that time and later on in other sessions, how you feel now.”

“You said that the reason you wanted to see someone like me was to try to improve how you feel and I can’t really help you if you don’t help me by being honest.”

“I think that you might need some time to consider what I’ve said so I suggest we leave it at that today and we’ll meet again next week. Of course, after what I’ve said you may not want to see me again.” She smiled at that.

“N-no. I must try harder. Just need some time. Can I leave it for ten days?”

“Certainly. Jacinta can make an appointment for ten days’ time.”

So Tony made it home again more worried about what he was going to have to do to try to get better. He was dreading it. He seemed to have spent so much time in rehab and this was going to be like that.  


As usual, Jethro fussed around him and tried to get more information out of him.

“How did it go this time?”

“Not telling you. A lot to think about.”

After that Tony was very quiet and Jethro wasn’t sure what to do, so he contented himself with providing silent support and trying to make sure Tony ate as much as he was able, took short walks round the garden and slept a lot.

“Honey, don’t forget I love you and I’m here for you always.”

“Love you, J-Jethro.”

Tony used what he thought of his time off from therapy to try to come to terms with how he was going to have to approach his next session. He’d had to do a lot physically to try to get better, in a sort of battlefield. Now he was going to have to put a lot of emotional and mental effort in another kind of battlefield.

**The Third Session**

“Hello, Tony. Do you feel you can tell me more now?”

“Yes. I n-need to get better.”

“So could you tell me more about how you felt after the shooting.”

“Frightened. Didn’t know where I was. Tried to get out of bed but could hardly move, couldn’t say when I was thirsty because I-I couldn’t speak. R-remembered how how to s-sign so could tell them that way. Didn’t know how to eat and a friend had to help me r-remember. Lights and sounds and touch hurt.”

It all came flooding back, those first few days when he had slowly come to realise how helpless he was. Then later, much later, when he’d realised how much he was going to have to do to get back to normal whatever that now meant, because he was never going to be back to the normal he used to be.

His breathing started to quicken until he couldn’t catch his breath. He clutched at his collar, his eyes full of fear. Dying, can’t breathe, can’t. Tried to ground himself, think of the cabin as his happy place. Not now, not here!

Eden came over to him.

“Tony, I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Please breathe slowly for me. Four in, hold, then four out. You are safe and I’m the only one in the room.” She spoke calmly and slowly, telling him how to breathe.

After ten minutes, Tony had calmed down enough to take notice of his surroundings. 

“How are you feeling now?”

“B-better. S-sorry, sorry.”

“Tony, there is nothing at all to be sorry about. You have done really well in starting to open up to me and that attack showed me how much courage it must have taken for you to tell me about how you felt after the shooting. You’ve made great progress.”

Tony looked at her in surprise. He’d made a fool of himself. Jethro was the only one who had seen him during one of these attacks. He was so embarrassed. Couldn’t come back again. Now she’d think he couldn’t look after himself. Why had he started this?

“I can almost hear what you’re thinking, Tony. Please don’t apologise or feel so embarrassed that you think you can’t come back again. You have taken gigantic steps in coming to see me and now in opening up so much more. It can be very painful and if you chose to come back it will probably be more painful still. From what you’ve told me you been very persistent in the rehab for your body, so please think of this as rehab for your mind if that helps.”

She could see him turning her statement over in his mind. Then he nodded decisively.

“Yes, still embarrassed but I’ll come back.”

She’d read him right. From what little he’d told her, he was tenacious and brave, both qualities he would need for him to make the improvement he wanted.

Jethro was getting very anxious. Tony had been going to therapy sessions for over a month now and at times he seemed worse than when he’d begun them.

“Honey, are you sure the therapy is helping?”

“W-why?” 

“Some days you seem so sad. Still don’t want to tell me?”

“No. I don’t w-want to h-hurt or worry you. I can talk to the therapist because they’re not you. Given me a lot to think about.”

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t hurt me by talking about how you feel but if it helps just to talk to the therapist. That’s OK.”

“Duck, I expected some improvement but after each session he’s exhausted and he’s been different from one day to the next. One day he seems better, eating more, taking exercise. He even asked Jane and some of the neighbours to come round but on other days he just seems so depressed again, hardly doing anything.”

“Jethro, allow Anthony to take his time over this. When therapy is undertaken honestly it can be a very demanding process and as we both know, Anthony always throws himself into everything heart and soul. Hence his exhaustion. And he’s still not physically well either. I suggest he is processing what is happening in the sessions. I should try not to worry. In fact, I should try to take it as a sign that it’s benefitting him. Just continue to do what you have always done, support him and keep telling him how much you love him.”

“But he was supposed to feel better.”

“The shooting was years ago so he has years of feelings to talk about. His therapy is not a sprint but a marathon. Where’s your sniper’s patience?”

“Point taken, Ducky.”

**The Fourth Session**

“Hello, Tony. How are you feeling now?”

“Not sure. Still em-embarrassed.”

He wasn’t going to tell how just how worried he was about this whole thing.

“Tony, you really have no need to be. We had got to a really important point which I want to explore with you. How do you feel about what you have lost?”

It’s obvious isn’t it?

“Tony, I can see what you’re thinking. What I need is for you to say it.”

“Sad.”

“Just sad? Nothing more?”

“F-frustrated. It’s hard sometimes.”

“Just sad and frustrated?”

He thought again about his life before the shooting, full of activity, with a level of fitness he had taken for granted, feeling useful in protecting and serving, able to do so many things now denied him.

The next words were pulled out of him unwillingly.

“So angry sometimes, bitter when I think of what I had before, before.”

“What do you do when you feel like that?”

“P-play music. Go for a walk. Then go back and manage.”

“Do you tell anyone?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t worry Jethro, must protect him. Can’t tell any of my friends either, they’d tell Jethro and hurt him again.” Forgetting that only the other day for the first time ever he’d shown Jethro just how bitter he was feeling.

“Why does Jethro need protecting?”

“He has enough to do helping me. Already he sees when I get frus-frustrated. Can’t give him anything more to worry about.”

“Do you think he knows how you feel?”

He smiled at that. Jethro was a trained investigator, of course he must know when sometimes he let his mask slip.

“Sure. Still don’t want to worry him.”

“If he knows how you feel anyway why don’t you tell him? What do you do if he feels angry or bitter about something?”

Tony knew that at times Jethro felt angry and bitter about the way he’d lost Shannon and Kelly and although often when he felt like that he just went to the workshop to think he would sometimes talk to Tony about his feelings. He didn’t mind Jethro telling him, he was glad when he did. So when he felt sad, or angry or bitter perhaps he could tell Jethro after all?

“I-I listen to him, c-comfort him but I owe him. He’s lost so much. He r-retired to look after me. W-we used to do things together. W-we went for long walks, runs. I can’t walk far, can’t run. I p-played football and he’d watch me sometimes and when I did t-triathlons. I can’t read p-properly. I’m slow and used to be fast. Can’t remember how to do things so he has to help me.”

“How does he help you?”

“Helps me walk on a b-bad day, has-has picked me up when I’ve fallen. Reminds me of w-words when I forget or don’t know the m-meaning. Speaks for m-me when I can’t. Before, before, we worked together, I was allowed to d-drive, carry a gun, could do things. Enjoyed work and I k-knew I was good at it. I was useful. Helped people. W-was fit and active. Always moving fast. I could talk, talk properly, remember. More equal. But now I can’t give him anything.”

“I want my life back.”

There, he’d said it. At first he’d been too traumatised, then grateful to be alive, then trying to make sense of the new life where he couldn’t do anything and that had made him want not to live once he’d realised what he’d lost. Then he was too busy, trying to regain some, just a little of what he’d lost. So grateful for Jethro by his side. Jethro who had given up so much and gave him so much. 

But not to have to take the helping hand, not to use the walking aid, not to have to read the instructions because he couldn’t remember without them, not to struggle for a word or have Jethro speak for him, to do things he’d always done without thinking, trying to keep some independence. He’d always protected and served and now he was useless and couldn’t do that anymore. He grieved for before, for the golden time, for the life he’d had. Now sometimes it felt like he was only existing. Did he really think that?

Tony said none of this to Eden, but she was a wise and intelligent woman, also good at her job. Tony might be good at reading people but so was she. She could see that he was lost in his thoughts and decide to move the conversation on.

“So why are you together still, if you think you owe your husband so much and can give him back so little?”

“Jethro was a M-marine, they never leave a man behind. I’m his man.”

“So that’s all there is to your relationship? You the needy one and he’s the carer? He gets nothing from you at all? What you seem to be saying is that your marriage is like a business transaction.”

Tony was puzzled.

“I mean that he does you a favour so you owe him one in exchange.”

Tony thought, no, no we love each other don’t we?

“He tells me he likes my jokes, my m-music.”

“Is that all? He could get some carers in and then leave you most of the time couldn’t he?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Tony, I think I’ve left you with a lot to think about so I suggest we finish this session and you book another appointment for a week’s time.”

If Tony had been able to run out of the office he would have done. This was hard, so much harder than he’d bargained for. Worse than when he’d struggled to learn to walk and talk again.

Jethro, as ever, tried to find out what had happened in his latest session.

“J-Jethro, no.” And that was that.

**The Fifth Session**

“Tony, we were talking about how you feel about your relationship. You said you had nothing to offer. So tell me what you do at home.”

“I’ll try to remember how to make Jethro scrambled eggs and coffee and Jane’s teaching me some more recipes. Have forgotten most of the ones I used to make.”

“Who is Jane?”

“One of our neighbours. She’s very kind.”

“How long has she been teaching you?”

“Several months. But I can only remember five recipes at the moment. So sometimes I make Jethro dinner as well.”

“Do you pay her?”

“No, I asked her and she said yes.”

“Why does she do it?”

“Yes, she says she enjoys it. She gets lonely sometimes.”

“What else do you do?”

“Go to Bethesda.”

“For more treatment?”

“N-no, to see some of the patients.”

“Why?”

“To, to cheer them up. They need en-encourage, en-couragement. To show them sometimes they could at least g-get a bit better. K-keep them company if they don’t have anyone. Sometimes their families can’t get to the hospital or they, they a-abandon them. The patients are like me, brain injured.”

“Does the hospital pay you to do that?”

“Of course not.”

“Where in the hospital do you go to see the patients?”

“Neur-neurology Department.”

“Is that where you were first treated after the shooting?”

“Yes.”

“So, from what you have told me so far, that you show your love for Jethro by doing at least one thing for him, help one of your neighbours to feel less lonely and that you willingly go to a hospital which I assume holds difficult memories for you so that you can help others. Is that right?”

“Haven’t thought of it like that.”

“Could I suggest that you consider what I’ve said and see whether you agree with it. For the next session could you tell me what else you do?”

She had made it a principle never to look into her clients’ backgrounds without their permission and to rely on what they told her but in Tony’s case she knew something about him purely because it had been reported in the local press. She wondered whether he would ever tell her or whether she was going to have to mention it as part of the strategy in encouraging him to realise exactly how useful his current life was.

**The Sixth Session**

“Hello Tony, last time, you told me something of what you normally do. Could you tell me more?”

“See friends, p-people I used to work with. New friends, like Sadie. I meet her and her friends in the park in summer and a d-diner in spring and winter.” 

Tony smiled, “Jethro calls t-them my harem.”

“The neighbours come over. They, they listen to my music. I play piano and sing. We-we talk.”

“What sort of things do you talk about?”

“How they are. Their problems sometimes.”

“What do you do if they talk about their problems?”

“Listen. Try to help.”

“So you see quite a lot of people. Why?”

“I-I like them, their company. I forgot, I go to the local store for grocery shopping sometimes and to talk to the storekeeper.”

“Is that the store run by Joe Larsson?”

“H-how?”

“I read the local papers, Tony, and your name and his were in them for quite a while.”

“Oh.” On Tony’s face was an expression familiar to Jethro. He called it the ‘aw shucks, t’weren’t nuthin’ expression, used when Tony was being complimented. At those times he became embarrassed and unable to take the compliment. 

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“It wasn’t much. I j-just did what anyone would do.”

“Really? If the newspapers were correct you tackled three men, younger and fitter than you, were stabbed and ended up being beaten up and concussed, to protect someone else. Is that right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Tony, you say you feel you have nothing to offer after a career of protecting and serving, so please think about what you have been telling me and this last piece of information that I found out. Think about when you help people in your life now. We also didn’t continue with what you do for Jethro, so please think about that.”

**The Seventh Session**

“Hello again, Tony. Have you thought about what we talked about last week?”

“Yes.”

“So…”

“Jethro gets sad sometimes.” He wasn’t going to say it was remembered grief for his dead first wife and only child.

“What do you do to help him?”

“Be-be there for him. Remind him he still has me and that I l-love him.”

“What else?”

“He sometimes comes home early and he he says it’s because he misses me.” Again he wasn’t going to say that sometimes it was very obvious why Jethro had come home early and on those occasions they’d ended up in bed or even on the couch if he couldn’t wait. 

“He says I-I’m his social secretary. I do the soc-sociable things for him.”

“What do you have to do?”

“S-sort out sending cards for Christmas and birthdays. Smooth feathers. Is that how you say it?”

“Near enough. Why do you do that for Jethro?”

“He says it how he sees it. Sometimes people don’t understand.”

Eden saw what Tony was tactfully trying to indicate. Jethro was probably brusque and therefore likely to ruffle the feathers that Tony was trying to talk about. So Tony covered for what seemed to be Jethro’s lack of people skills. Tony was the diplomatic and empathetic one in the relationship and despite his problems he was obviously the one who people were more likely to come to for advice or if they needed a listener. He’d already said that in a way when he ‘d talked about their neighbours.

“You say that Jethro interprets for you when you can’t speak or forget words sometimes but you’ve also said you do the same for him if you soothe ruffled feathers. You do things for Jethro and he does things for you. Just like any couple?”

“I suppose so.”

“You have been saying how dependent on Jethro you feel so how much time does he spend looking after you?”

“Depends on whether I have a bad day. Might be all day then but often not.”

“What does he do when you have good days?”

“We go out t-together. We, we have a cabin and go there s-sometimes or to the beach. We watch games on TV, sometimes movies, work out together in the gym or swim in the pool. Jethro says we’ll cover it and have a pool house so we can swim all year. Or he goes fishing” (Tony screwed up his face, obviously no fan of the sport), “meets his friends, makes things in the workshop.”

“So you spend a lot of time alone at home then?”

“Some if I want to. I have Kitty.”

“Kitty?”

“My cat. Jethro bought her for me even though he doesn’t really l-like cats and he really doesn’t like her. H-he thinks I don’t know. He’d like a dog. Alix or Callum comes over with their cat if I-I want company. They live in the grounds.”

“So they are your carers?”

Tony thought about that. They were more like friends than carers and all they did was hang out with him when he was having what he called to himself a ‘lonely day’.

“N-not really. I got lonely sometimes so Jethro and I decided to em-employ some people to stay with me if I wanted.”

“Is that often?”

“No. Depends on what, what I’m doing. I go out as well, seeing friends in the park, the store, like I said.”

“How do you get to those places?”

“Mostly walk. Sometimes if the weather’s bad, get a taxi or Jethro drives me.”

“So, thinking about what you’ve told me about what you and Jethro do both separately and together, how do you still feel about your dependence on him?”

“Need time to think.”

“That’s fine.”

“By the way, if it had been Jethro who had been shot what would you have done?”

“Looked after him.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I love him of course.”

Eden looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh.”

“Tony, I think we have covered quite a lot of ground in these sessions.”

“I mean we have talked a lot about the things that worried you and I think that you have worked very hard to improve how you feel so I want you to tell me next week what you have learned.”

As the sessions had continued, Eden was relieved that Tony was beginning to be more honest, keeping less back but it was clear that he wasn’t telling her everything, but then most of her clients felt the need to protect some part of themselves. As long as Tony was making progress and beginning to have more good days and becoming more self-aware, that was the main thing.

She wondered what Tony had been like before the shooting, before he had got together with Jethro even. A man with his looks and his ability to charm (which he’d shown in the short time she’d known him) was bound to have been a player.

She was intrigued to know what Jethro was like to have attracted a man such as Tony. It was obvious that they loved each other deeply and complemented each other well. She was never going to meet him of course, unless they came to her for couples counselling.

She quickly shut a lid on her unprofessional speculations and continued writing up her case notes.

**The Eighth and Final Session**

“Hello Tony, please tell me what you’ve learned.”

Tony had spent hours thinking about what the therapy was doing for him and how it had begun to change how he felt about things. He brought a piece of paper out of his backpack and read haltingly from it:-

“If I would look after Jethro if he’d been s-shot because I love him not, not out of pity, then I can believe he d-does the same for m-me.”

“I need more help now than I did before b-but if you’re t-together, you you help each other and I help Jethro as well.”

“I’m allowed to feel angry or bitter about the shooting and don’t need to hide that from from Jethro because he loves me.”

“I-I’m more independent that I thought.”

“I can still serve but in a different way.”

What Tony had written seemed like a promise.

“Tony, I’m so glad that these sessions have helped you. You’ve worked very hard and I know it’s been painful at times. How do you feel about whether or not to continue these sessions? As always it’s entirely up to you.”

“I-I’ve learned a lot and I feel a lot better now. Not c-completeIy but I think I-I’d like to stop them now because I need to talk to Jethro and w-work some things out with him.”

“I’m very pleased to hear you sound so positive. If you do feel you need to come for further sessions in the future do let me know. Goodbye and my best wishes to you and to Jethro.”

“T-thank you. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“Tony, you’ve helped yourself.”

So Tony walked out the door and said goodbye to Jacinta, relieved to have finished the sessions but also apprehensive as he now had to have a serious talk with Jethro. He knew he wasn’t always going to be as positive as he’d sounded in that last session.

Jethro, as usual, had tried to get Tony to talk about his latest session without much hope that Tony would give him any useful information but this time was different.

“That was my last s-session and I need to talk to you.”

“That sounds serious.” He looked at his husband – it _was_ serious, judging by Tony’s expression.

“Should I be worried?”

“N-no. just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For hurting you, s-shutting you out and not telling you when I feel angry about the shooting and when I haven’t t-trusted you. W-when I think you only stay with me out of pity.”

“Love, there’s no need to apologise.”

“I-I know there’ll be times when, when…”

Jethro stopped him there.

“Sweetheart, we’re both human. I’m only glad you’ve been helped. It can’t have been easy.”

“I m-miss my old life and want it back, J-Jethro.”

Jethro started to speak.

“No, Jethro. S’fact. We make the b-best of it but I s-still feel angry and useless.”

So much for therapy. What a waste of money.

“Jethro, please don’t. But now I don’t feel so useless, not so often. I know you tell me I’m not useless, now I’ll mostly believe you.”

Tony smiled and hugged his husband.

“I’m so grateful.”

“What for?” Jethro’s voice was muffled against Tony’s shoulder.

“For, for, loving me and now I know it’s not out of pity.”

Jethro looked into the face of the man that he loved and said, “The pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart.”


End file.
